He wouldn’t have

O he wouldn’t have let me go,
He shouldn’t have looked the other way,
Just a little sway and swag by lesser age,
Like reliving a nightmare at a new level,
Its frivolous, he claims I changed physique,
To me change is inevitable unless I’m a vending machine,

Still wondering what happened to self respect and honour,
And walking around knowing he let me go,
I Wonder what happened to those long
Conversations, concerns, confirmations, comforts,
What happened to the lengthy,
Lengthy stares and passions.,
Running home just to wobble in the whoas!!

These lonely nights are long,
Like a passing cloud he just became.

2014 march 18th 0900hrs

ìsmail’s ♥ poetry works♥

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1 Comment

  1. this is super. The passion infused with the mundane: what am I, a vending machine? Love the idea of rushing home to be in the “whoas”–way better than “woes”…! Super amalgam of thought/emotion and expression.

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